Cigarettes Taste Better
by Angelic Guardian
Summary: Two Goths. Only one cigarette left. That can't be good. Oneshot.


**Author's Note: **I like this pairing, for no real reason, other than the fact that I just think these two look really cute together. (I actually didn't even consider this pairing until I first saw that scene in _The Ungroundable_ when Henrietta is driving, and Red Goth is in the passenger seat, and he asks, "Does your mom know you took her car?" and Henrietta replies, "Do I care?" XD) And seeing as how there are literally no stories about this pairing, I figured I'd write one of my own. Hope you like it.

By the way, I didn't want to give Red Goth a made up name, so he's simply referred to as 'he' in this story. Sorry if that's kinda confusing.

**Disclaimer: **South Park © Trey Parker and Matt Stone.

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_Cigarettes Taste Better_

by Angelic Guardian

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The two young Goths were sitting on the hardwood floor of Henrietta's bedroom, their backs leaning up against her bed. They both had bored looks on their faces, their eyelids drooping with exhaustion as they just stared out in front of them, gazing at her dark blue walls. A shiny black ash tray sat on the floor in between them, practically filled to the brim with their discarded ashes and cigarette butts. They each took another long drag out of their cigarettes, the intoxicating smoke filling their lungs and drowning out all of their senses. They simultaneously blew the smoke out above their heads, creating twin rings of gray smoke that filled up the already thick and cloudy air. The ashes from their cigarettes came crumbling down as they both tapped them into the ash tray. Their mouths hung open as they breathed in deeply, enjoying the quiet, smoke-filled atmosphere.

He took one final drag from his cigarette, exhaling the smoke upward in a short huff. He looked down, causing a few locks of his jagged black and red hair to fall right in front of his face. He quickly flipped his head back, just as he always did, sweeping the strands of hair away from his eye. After extinguishing the burnt remains of his cigarette into the ash tray, he turned his head to look at Henrietta and asked in his dull, raspy voice, "Hey…can I have another cigarette?"

Henrietta blinked, her eyes darting to look down at the floor. "Sure," she replied in her equally lazy, droning voice as she reached for the pack of cigarettes laying in front of her. She picked it up, not even bothering to turn her head as she handed it to him. He opened the box and peered inside of it, immediately frowning and lowering his eyebrows when he did. It was empty.

"What the eff?!" he shouted angrily, flinging the useless box across her room.

Henrietta sucked on the end of her own cigarette, blowing the smoke out through her circle-shaped lips. "Oh…" she drawled indifferently. "That's right…I forgot. This is the last one." She held up the cigarette between her pudgy fingers before slowly putting it to her lips again.

He looked right at the cigarette, staring at it longingly. He grew annoyed as he watched Henrietta take another long drag from it, her eyes drifting closed as she deeply inhaled the smoke. She sucked in as much as she could before her lungs couldn't handle anymore and she had no choice but to blow all the smoke out. His eyes followed her lips as she parted them slightly and exhaled the smoke in a long, relaxed puff. He could feel the jealousy building up inside of him as he breathed in the smoke around him.

Slowly, Henrietta looked at him, and his eyes flickered up from the cigarette long enough to meet her gaze. "You want a drag?" she asked.

"Yes," he answered, and immediately looked at the cigarette again. He watched intently as the smoke escaped the tip of it and traveled upward in a long, snake-like trail. While he stared at it, he couldn't help but briefly notice Henrietta's long, sharp fingernails, coated in her usual glossy, jet black shade of nail polish. He looked back up at her again, hoping she'd hand the delicious cigarette over to him.

Henrietta was silent for a moment, her expression unreadable. Her eyes flickered to look down at her cigarette, then back up at him, a devilish smirk somehow finding its way across her lips.

"I've got a better idea," she said confidently.

He blinked in confusion, when the next thing he knew, Henrietta had grabbed a fistful of his shirt and pulled him forward, smashing her lips against his. He froze, his eyes flying open as wide as they could go as he let out a muffled scream, frantically trying to pull away from her. She merely grasped his shirt harder as she pushed her warm, velvety tongue inside his mouth.

Gradually, he stopped struggling against her, taking a moment to enjoy the acrid, smoldering taste of nicotine on her lips. He closed his eyes and found himself leaning more into the kiss, hoping to get more of that satisfying taste in his mouth. He began to feel the tight grip on his shirt loosen until he was let go altogether as Henrietta slowly pulled away from him, immediately putting the cigarette back to her lips and taking one long and final drag. He sat there in a daze, absentmindedly staring at her while trying to understand what the _hell_ just happened between them. Just as he was about to ask, somebody else beat him to it.

"What…the hell…was that?"

They both looked up to see the tallest Goth in their group standing at the doorway, a cigarette hanging from his mouth and his cane in hand. Henrietta nonchalantly blew out the smoke, acting as though nothing out of the ordinary had just happened. She squashed the tip of her cigarette into the ash tray and started twisting it back and forth, not saying a word. The tallest Goth shook his head in disappointment.

"Conformists…"


End file.
